


you can have any flavor you want as long as it's...

by foxinschlox



Series: MikoTotsu Week 2014 [9]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Dream Sex, Fluff to Angst, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxinschlox/pseuds/foxinschlox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for MikoTotsu Week. 12/10 : Dream|Sleep. [ maid Totsukas are difficult... (late uploaded/edited prompt fill) ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can have any flavor you want as long as it's...

“Mikoto ~”

 

There was a sensation like anesthetic wearing off all over.

 

“Mikoto ~”

No mistaking that voice. It was meant to follow him everywhere, even to here. But that was  
his name? His real one. Echoing, soothing in  _that wa_ y to turn his insides some too-warm-and-syrupy consistency. In first degree abuse of his weakness.

 

“It's no good if you sleep here too.”

 

One eye peeked open to find Totsuka's gentle smile peering down at him. Alright but-

White ruffles framed his shoulders and chest, trimming pink fabric fitted tight at the top. A little band of lace perched in his hair. A maid's outfit?

 

A fleeting peck of a kiss pressed his cheek. Applied slow, so as not to startle him.  
“There. I'm so happy you're awake.”

 

Then another. “So am I.”

 

“ _Whh_ ”  
Mikoto, too dizzy to speak, was trying his best to process.

Getting dizzier once he swore he was seeing double on both sides. Two Totsukas. Mirrors of each other, identical down to fine detail. Alright.

 

Whatever they were whispering between themselves – looking him over discreetly – must have been amusing.

 

“Wait here, I've got just the thing,” the pair chirped in excited unison (or was it one voice entirely?)

 

It wasn't like he could move his legs anyway, or keep track of the two of them. God damn it. 

Mikoto scowled at his surroundings. Here it was too bright and lovely – all white like the grand parlor of a palace. Some kind of unfinished illusion where everything faded away to white with without edges, without any real shape. Not somewhere that he belonged, slouched back, tranquilized with something strong enough to thoroughly fuck with his head.

 

“This should take care of it.”

 

There was too much flounce in one Totsuka's skirt when he returned with a single tray on one hand, balancing three carafes full of milk pink enough to match the fabric of his maid's uniform. Frills and ruffles all around promised nice, soft things to touch underneath. Mikoto kept following the short hemline of the dress with his eyes as if its swaying motion would sober him up. Not quite.   
Maybe if Totsuka let him feel the smooth curves of his legs, all the way down to the white stockinged calves...

That would fix it.

 

“I do hope you decide to stay. It's so lonely here,”

it was delicate, reaching, the sound of the way he spoke,

“I've been waiting for you, Mikoto.”

 

Once lucid enough to make real words, Mikoto decided to push his luck and ask,

“You're not gonna' call me King?”

 

“That sounds kind of dated, don't you think? But if you need me to,” Totsuka baited his master with charming, hazy eyes – bent too far over the table's edge not to polish off with the slightest wiggle of his hips –  
“I can call you anything you'd like.”

 

Appreciating the view, Mikoto felt skilled hands massage circles into his shoulders. They seemed to find just the right spots to add pressure, enough to make him melt back on the verge of begging for more. Maid Totsuka's double was too well versed in all the places he tended to build up tension.

 

“See, this is a place of rest,” the other set out long stemmed wine glasses to fill with strawberry milk. Pouring shouldn't have naturally sounded so melodic. Each glass made its own pleasant tone.

“You do too much sleeping, not enough resting.”

 

“ 'm not tired at all.”

 

“Good. You're going to need the energy,” the Totsuka massaging him down blew into his ear, paired with a tight squeeze of his shoulders.

 

Good distraction for letting the other one settle into his lap, and press the glass topped off with pink to his lips. He couldn't say no. The stuff was perfectly chilled and spilled across his tongue like liquid comfort; a trace of the uncomplicated past.

 

“Don't mind that,” the right Totsuka coddled, let him drink his fill before sipping from what was left after. This wasn't exactly the most professional maid service he could have asked for. Mikoto reached to catch the milk dripping down his chin with two fingers, pressed them up against his mouth to take in and suckle them clean.

 

Jealous, the other Totsuka plead for the same until the two were wrapped around him, vying gently for attention. It wasn't so bad. Mikoto relaxed under their pawing touches, running through his hair, grasping at his shoulders, at everything they could get their hands on... what one wanted to touch the other wanted more. Including the coveted place in the curve of his neck. It was perfect for claiming with wet kisses that turned into playful bites here and there– they would test him to see what they could get away with.

 

Delicate sounds like tempting purrs came from both, balanced on either side of his lap. Mikoto abandoned all remaining dignity and nuzzled his face in between them.  _So soft._

 

Then, as if the hallucination shifted and his head quit swimming, the two Totsukas appeared to fade back into one. Just one, pushed up against his chest in his time of need.

 

“Is this better?” he nosed Mikoto's cheek, babying with caresses and the light pressure of his body, “wouldn't want to give you more than you can handle.”

 

“You saying I don't have the stamina for two?”

Mikoto always simmered down to the point fast.

 

“ _Mm_ how many then?”

 

“Keep petting there and y' might find out.”

 

“ _Come s_ _how me._ ”  
Totsuka pouted, clearly not cut out for this line of work. He was too demanding.

 

Tsk.

 

Lace and skirts and ruffles lifted up to make good on their promises.

....

..........

 

* * *

 

From a potentially safe distance they watched the Red King struggle and writhe in his sleep.

 

“Is Mikoto-san alright?” Yata looked genuinely worried.

 

“Usually easy to tell if it's a nightmare” Izumo lifted a brow upon noticing the odd, muffled grunt that followed Mikoto's restless tossing. “For now I'm not so sure.”

 

“W-what happens if it's a nightmare?”

 

“ _BOOM!”_

Chitose shouted over the smaller clansman's shoulder, shaking the seat beneath him and reducing the kid to a shuddering mess.

 

“It's not funny, asshole!”

 

Izumo's laugh sank to a devilish pitch,

“He's right ya' know. We'll all explode and die.”

 

* * *

 

 

..........

....

 

“ _O h ~”_

Rough snaps of Mikoto's hips shook the glass carafes sitting pretty beside them. Hard enough to knock one over and bathe Totsuka's hair and upper body in a pool of strawberry pink. Laid too hard against the table with its lion paw feet – mewling and squirming like an indecent little maid.

Let master suck on his tongue, moaning heavy down to fill his open mouth.

 

Stockings refused to stay up on skinny legs after Mikoto popped the garters in a fit of impatience.

But the arch in Totsuka's back made perfect rising-falling curves to the touch. Layered skirts rode higher, with white lace panties once hidden underneath dripping down off one ankle.   
  


This was a place of rest. Mikoto needed lots of rest, and he'd make it echo until coming apart at the illusory edges with his name.

 

Totsuka felt as incredible as he sounded. Handprints marked the exposed flesh of his thighs trembling at the heat forced between them. Marked territory in a bed of white, pink chiffon. The dress suited him too well. It looked better torn, shed from his shoulders, wet with milk.

  
Totsuka caught him staring. He bit at his bottom lip and let his touch roam far, far down into the hot friction between them.

“It's pressing here really good.”

 

“Ye _ah_?” Mikoto shifted to tease him before forcing the issue,  
“If I press that harder you gonna' scream for me?”

 

“ _M_ _m_ _m_ _-more_ _!_ ”  
Deep reaching strokes asked louder of him, made him claw at Mikoto's back the closer they folded into each other. Hips bore the force of powerful hands making depth. The kisses he panted up against, laid across his chest, along the outline of ruffles were of a different, gentler breed.

 

These were the places Mikoto lost himself. Wished to stay forever like Totsuka asked him so many times over in so many different positions. But no matter how deep he buried or how completely they entangled he could never quite..

 

“save me, mikoto”  
the words formed tried to break from parted lips.

On the second, desperate attempt they came distorted.  
The air grew suddenly thick to breathe.

  
“ _What_?”

Sweat dripped off the tips of the Red King's fringe. Body quivering, he shut his eyes tight.  _Don't do this._  He forced them open again to find his hands alight with flame. The fabric left covering his vassal's body wherever he touched blackened and burnt away, sparing the pristine flesh underneath. Totsuka's legs wrapped tight around his waist kept them locked together; kept him sheathed even tighter inside.

 

“ 's it hurt?” Mikoto snarled through pleasure like a trapped animal. He had to protect? But he couldn't. He couldn't let go.

The fire would spread and climb until the white room began to slow cook in the blaze all around them. Faded to a bloody red at the edges that didn't exist.

 

“It does. So much,” Totsuka cooed, guiding King's burning hands down what remained of the torn bodice, down his sides, to the skirts. All burnt away until he was laid completely bare, still begging with his eyes. Nothing so beautiful had ever plucked the cord of fear so exactly within the Red King.

 

“Touch all of me. Inside too... I want you to remember the way I feel when everything is gone.”

 

“ _Gone ?”_

 

“ _Mikoto ~”_

 

* * *

 

The Red King jolted awake, his chest heaving. The sharp contrast of reality didn't wait around before sinking teeth into him. Excess water wrung out into a bowl on the floor. Totsuka was already by his side with a damp cloth to dab all the sweat from his forehead.

 

“Sorry I couldn't wake you sooner. It didn't seem so bad at first. But you must have been fighting something big and scary, huh.”

 

He pressed the cloth over King's eyes a moment and stroked gentle at his back with the other hand. Mikoto turned flush. Realizing Totsuka was unharmed eased his breathing at least. But this was the worst time.

 

“The water might be too warm. Cooler is better for this kind of thing, I think. Do you want to come wash your face in the s-”

 

“Don't need to,”   
Mikoto snapped and pulled the blanket back over himself in an embarrassed hurry. What he needed was a hard spray bottle to the face. And some serious privacy.

 

Totsuka patted him twice, the usual signal he would stay close by.

“Poor King.”

 

Poor King.


End file.
